


What is Dance?

by NorroenDyrd



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Battle Couple, Drabble, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Romance, Wordcount: 100-500
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 22:24:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15253371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorroenDyrd/pseuds/NorroenDyrd
Summary: The tiniest snapshot of Cassandra's romance with an Inquisitor of an unspecified class (and gender), which compares the way they fight and trek through the wilds as a couple to a seamless, harmonized dance.





	What is Dance?

‘I do not dance,’ Cassandra says, and the warrior smiles, remembering how they skidded side by side across the dark, silver-streaked, groaning ice, with their metal boots carving flaking white scratches into it with a shrill noise, and how she - still a stranger back then, a stern Seeker in a hurry to get the prisoner to the Breach - made certain that both herself and her companion dodged the swipes of the angry wraiths that kept falling from the broiling green sky, and did not let the lake’s frozen crust give in under their armour’s combined weight.

 

'I do not dance,’ Cassandra says, and the mage smiles, remembering how their party had gotten lost in the dark, wild woods, where the mist was dense as last day’s milk, and the trees and rocks all clashed together in a chaotic mess - and how skillfully the Seeker maneuvered between the pulsing runes that the local apostates had woven into the undergrowth for protection. She was guided through those woods by the mage, who could not quite see the runes in all the fog, but managed to detect their presence through surges of magical energy, thus helping Cassandra chart her course, blinded by the milky haze but putting all her faith in the steady, reassuring voice that was telling her to take one step to the left and then to the right.

 

'I do not dance,’ Cassandra says, and the rogue smiles, remembering how the two of them sowed utter panic in the ranks of the sharp-hooded Venatori cultists, who had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, nowhere to stop and sink to their knees and beg their blighted would-be god for mercy - caught as they were in between the swift, relentless blade, which kept flaring blindingly in the stone-melting rays of the desert sun as it rose and fell, and the even swifter arrows, which sunk into the vulnerable spots of lavish Tevinter robes with the deadly precision of a lunging viper, complementing the blade strikes and leaving no enemy untouched.

 

'I do not dance,’ Cassandra says, and the Inquisitor smiles - for what is dance if not the union of two people moving as one, each trusting their partner to the fullest? What is dance if not the same thing as they have been doing this entire time?


End file.
